


Unravel

by HovercraftOfEels



Series: Bound To Change [1]
Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: (Except When It Does), (Or So Help Me...), And Will Get Several, Author Utterly Wreaks Canon For Her Own Designs, But That's Okay Because Honestly, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Obi-Wan Needs a Hug, Padme Amidala Has No Fucks Left To Give, Political Operatives Verses Sith Lords, Starts With Episode I and goes through Episode III (with Clone Wars canon), That's Not How The Force Works, Time Travel Shenanigans, Warnings For Canon Character Death (But It Never Sticks)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2019-07-25 17:39:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16202402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HovercraftOfEels/pseuds/HovercraftOfEels
Summary: And then once she wakes up, the weak morning light filtering in past gauzy drapes, the gentle Naboo morning so much like the one she always knew.Except this time, she knew it.Padmé sat up, her hair tumbling over one shoulder as her eyes widened in shock. This wasn’t a hazy memory, no half-dream that was fading away. The memory was clear, crystalline in her mind.This time, she remembered everything.-----A story told over and over again is bound to change.





	1. A New Hope

It doesn’t happen the same way every time.

Padmé has spent lifetimes now trying to figure out what needs to change in order to save them all, and so far, she hasn’t been able to manage to even save herself. The first time, she hadn’t been been afraid to die, but as her body failed her, the blood coming too quickly for the medical droids to stem and the only feeling she can manage is grief as life slips away, the cries of her newborn children the last thing she’s aware of before darkness surrounded her.

But then she woke again in a body so much younger, her handmaidens opening the drapes on a Naboo sunrise as the newly appointed Queen got ready for a summit with the increasingly hostile Trade Federation. By lunch, Padmé had convinced herself it had just been a dream. By dinner, even the memory of the dream was forgotten.

Later, it always felt cruel that she was forced to remember so long after it mattered.

There was always a strange tug of deja vu, no matter how she denied it to herself. The crash landing on Tatooine, meeting a sandy haired boy who called her an angel, the collapse of the Republic into war, all of it. Padmé walks through it all with a quiet air of confusion that never quite leaves her and she never acknowledges until all at once it floods back as she lies in a med bay, the life once again flowing from her.

She remembers, and then she forgets.

Padmé eventually loses track of how many lives she has lived because it hardly matters. When the end comes (and it always comes) there are times that she rages against it, fury escaping her lips that stuns the Jedi standing nearby, and other times where she can only weep before it’s all over, even though it’s never really over. Her life repeats itself over and over but nothing changes, nothing is changeable, not as long as she doesn’t remember until it’s far too late.

She always dies filled with grief, regret, overwhelming longing for a chance to make it right.

And then once she wakes up, the weak morning light filtering in past gauzy drapes, the gentle Naboo morning so much like the one she always knew.

Except this time, she knew it.

Padmé sat up, her hair tumbling over one shoulder as her eyes widened in shock. This wasn’t a hazy memory, no half-dream that was fading away. The memory was clear, crystalline in her mind.

This time, she remembered everything.

\---  
There was a flurry of the normal activity, but Padmé could only stand still, almost shocked as she heard that there were two Jedi and a Gungan approaching the palace, that they had made it past the blockade, that there was hope after all.

She had to bite down laughter that would have been terribly out of place.

Padmé Amidala, Queen of the Naboo dressed in her ceremonial black and red dress, put on the pale makeup and ornate hair ornaments that spoke to her status, all the while staring in silence at the reflection in the mirror that did not for a moment reflect the woman she was.

No, not a woman. A woman in a teenage queen’s body, her eyes so much older than they should be. She could remember how often Organa and others would comment on her old eyes, and there was that absurd urge to laugh again. 

They didn’t know the half of it.

The Padmé who walked through the hallways to meet the Jedi now was no child queen but a seasoned political agent who was more than aware that the galaxy rested upon her shoulders in a particularly literal way. Perhaps if she had been born with Force sensitivity, she would question this turn of events more existentially, but all Padme could do was breathe and try to not give in to despair.

There had been far too much of that, and Padmé knew there would be more to come.

It was shocking to see how young Master (no, not yet) Kenobi truly was when they first met, and for a brief moment she almost considered telling him everything then and there. Her fingers clenched into balled fists at her side because this was not going to be solved by a simple word. Padmé wasn’t stupid; even at this early stage Palpatine had his tentacles in every facet of galactic politics and she did not have the authority or powerbase to unseat that. 

Yet.

So she stood before the Jedi and listened, nodded at the right parts, and planned. It would require patience, caution, and an incredible amount of luck.

But it also required hope, and she had more than enough of that for everyone now. She’d have to, if this had even a remote chance of working.


	2. Two Suns

It was incredibly difficult to keep her composure the first time she sees Anakin.

He’s young, so much younger than she remembered him being, just like Obi-Wan except the reaction this time is visceral, instinctive. He’s not the man she loves, he’s a boy who is about to be caught up in the galactic drama that he never once asked for, not like her. She had been born to politics, to this fight, elected because of her uncommon rationality in spite of her youth. But he was caught on a planet where he was considered property, no future or hope. He’d been trapped by circumstances until the Jedi landed on Tatooine and changed everything, at least for him.

Not for the first time, she recognized how bitterly the galaxy wronged so many.

So Padmé can ignore the stifling desert heat, the harsh conditions and horrifying slave trade (well, maybe not that one,) because she’s focused on the boy who will become the man that she would have to save if any of them had a future worth saving. He would also become the man who she would love, she would marry, whose children she carried.

The man who ultimately would kill her.

“Are you crying?” Anakin’s voice startles her as she sits in the tent, working on helping him repair a very basic part that she is almost certain that they gave her just to keep her occupied. Padmé looks up into his earnest face, coated in dust and light freckles from the Tatooine suns, and it takes every bit of her will to not just tell him everything.

Ridiculous, of course. He’s not her Anakin, not yet. Everything is happening so quickly but Padmé realized that morning on Naboo that she had to be cautious with her foreknowledge, and that included with him. Especially with him. Palpatine hadn’t gotten his hooks into Anakin yet, but here they were on the cusp of everything and all she wanted to do was protect him. With _violence_ if she had to, and that alone was a enough of a change to make her dizzy. She wasn't the girl he'd met so many times before anymore. She was angry now, and that was so dangerous.

“Do you miss your home?” he continues, sitting next to her and she realizes just how young she truly is as well, in spite of the fact that she felt ancient. Padmé was two people at this state now, her mind and her body two very different beings, and she couldn’t deny either one of them anymore than she could deny the hopeful curiosity of the boy sitting beside her.

So she smiled, and pretended that her heart wasn’t breaking.

“I do, but I know that I’ll see it again. It’s not quite as hot as here, and far less sand. I think I got a little bit in my eye,” she lied well enough, focusing her attention down at the equipment and not his eager face. 

Anakin laughed, almost uproariously at that. “Oh, I get it. I hate sand!”

In spite of herself, Padmé had to smile at that. Of course he did.

\---

Padmé had already made up her mind that at least one thing was changing this time. Shmi Skywalker was not staying on Tatooine. 

Later, she would have the political clout to do something about the planet itself, she hoped. At the very least she could start to put pressure in the right places to break parts of the slave trade in the Outer Rim, but for right this second she could only make sure that Shmi wasn’t left behind this time. Padmé knew that she didn’t have a ton of leverage in this situation, but that wouldn’t stop her.

“No, Ani's right, there is no other way... I may not like it, but he can help you...he was meant to help you...” she had said the day before, just as she always did but for once, Padme didn’t back down.

“Then you’re both coming with us.” Padmé didn’t bother hiding the command in her voice, and she noted how Master Jinn looked at her with sharp eyes, how Kenobi’s head turned, but she was a queen, whether they knew it yet or not, and she was not about to be gainsaid.

“Whatever happens with Anakin, we are all leaving Tatooine together.”

Shmi looked at Padmé as if she was seeing her for the first time while Anakin just looked happy, relieved. It was something overwhelming for both of them in this moment, and Padmé wondered if somehow, Shmi might have known too. Might be trapped in this same cycle, maybe not even really knowing it consciously but grateful that something was changing all the same.

But Padmé knew she couldn’t go down that road too often. It was too risky, too close to madness.

So she instead stared down a Jedi Master who seemed to want to argue with her, shoulders straight as she met Qui-Gon’s gaze with steely resolve, and here they were at the onset of a dangerous race that made her heart leap into her stomach even if she knew the outcome by now. It didn’t matter, not when she was changing the script.

Before the race, Qui-Gon had done his usual argument with Watto about Anakin and Shmi, but this time she interjected, staring down the Toydarian just as she’d stared down Master Jinn the day before.

“Both, or we withdraw completely, and you are left without a racer.” Padmé’s eyes narrowed with intent. “The Skywalkers against our ship, period.”

By this point, both Jedi had clearly figured her usual handmaiden out, and Padmé couldn’t begin to give a kriff.

The race ended, Anakin won, but Padmé couldn’t do much more than manage a smile, slight and not nearly as bright as she knew it likely should be. Master Jinn seemed distracted by their preparations, but Obi-Wan was looking at her with something adjacent to worry, landing near understanding.

Padmé didn’t bother trying to unpack it. She knew how much was still to come.

The smile came so much easier though once she walked onto the ship behind Anakin and his mother, the fear gripping her heart lessening even as the inevitability of Darth Maul’s attack bore down upon them. She didn’t think it was a good idea to warn Qui-Gon about that particular one, since she knew that he survived it, and yet it gnawed upon her very soul to not say anything. She gave in, before the Zabrak’s form appeared over the dunes.

The sound of the saberstaff igniting came after her cry to look out, far earlier than it should have.

Padmé hurried the take off, Master Jinn leaping out of the way in time for the ship to escape. She was panting, as if she’d been the one fighting the Sith, but Qui-Gon was already distracted by the preparations to hit the hyperlanes.

But Obi-Wan Kenobi was watching her, eyes sharp and his expression that same mixture of emotions that he had before, and she knew without him having to say a word what had happened. The twinkle in his eyes was unmistakable, though, and he actually smiled.

“... and here I thought it was only me.”


	3. Menace

It takes them far longer to find a way to have a private conversation than Padmé would have liked. Every nerve ending in her body felt like it was on fire, fear and when everyone else was distracted (or asleep) enough for the Queen and the Jedi to slip away for a hushed talk behind a bulkhead. Qui-Gon was focused elsewhere, Anakin and Shmi were asleep, curled up together in a bunk under the extra blankets that Padmé had brought them.

That was something, at least. A change. An improvement.

Finally, she could look up at Obi-Wan and realize that his eyes were the same as hers likely were; older than they should be, tired and a little afraid. Padmé couldn’t help herself and reached out to take his hands in hers, squeezing them tightly in relief.

She wasn’t alone in this after all.

Obi-Wan clearly felt the same way for he didn’t mind the gesture, even smiling on a face that felt oddly naked without the beard she was more used to. After all, they only briefly met before years apart, and by that point both he and Anakin were much older, as was she. It would have made her laugh if she didn’t feel the weight of the galaxy on her shoulders.

“Are you all right? What is the last thing you remember?” Padmé could tell just by the way he asked the question that he knew the painful answer, and she shook her head.

“My death. You and Bail Organa are there, my children are crying. Anakin fought you, but first he crushed me with the Force, and childbirth causes me to bleed to death.” She says it so softly, detached, as if it happens to someone else. It’s the only way she can truly process it all now in the horror of memory. “And you?” Because she’s almost certain that he did not die there in that cold, clinical med-bay with her. Obi-Wan grimaces.

“I wish I could say that it all turns out alright in the end. It does, years later, with your son confronting Anakin as a man. He’s able to throw off Palpatine’s influence, but that’s years after he killed me and left me a passive observer in the Force. Your son and daughter save the galaxy, but the scars, the purges, the monstrous death tolls...” Obi-Wan has to cover his eyes, as if overwhelmed by grief. “Padmé, we cannot let this play out the same way it has over and over again.”

She managed a weak smile. “Well, we agree on that much at least. I’ve only had a few days to plan at least, but I’ve already verified that Palpatine’s reach at this point is far more than I ever realized, and until I’m elected to the Senate my power to move against him is limited. Far more limited than I would like.” The irony that as a Queen she was far less powerful than a Senator had not escaped her, and Padmé bit at her fingernail in a nervous gesture as she paced, worrying. “But we’re not powerless, this time. We know what happened, what led to Palpatine’s strike. It’s not just one thing we have to stop, it’s dozens. I -- I just believe the first one was making sure that Anakin’s mother wasn’t left to the slavers.” And the rest of Tatooine, but she would get to that later.

Obi-Wan reached up to stroke a beard thoughtfully that was not present, and gave Padmé an abashed grin that she couldn’t help but return a little more easily than before. In spite of how pressing the fear of failure was upon her, to know she wasn’t in this alone was a relief.

“Anakin’s vision of her death certainly was a turning point, but as you say, there are so many others. What’s more, when I attempted to suggest to Qui-Gon that Palpatine was a Sith Lord in hiding, I found that I was unable to speak freely. Something kept me from forming the words when I tried to tell him more than that I suspected a Sith Lord in the Senate.”

Padmé was frowning against, pacing, but thinking. She was certainly not a green teenager this time around; she had lived lifetimes and learned from every mistake. “It is a start. Whatever is causing this anomaly clearly has rules we do not understand, but if we are able to speak about it together, that is something to begin with. Even being able to guide the Jedi along the investigation to the right areas could be enough to force Palpatine out of power before he’s able to corrupt the clone troopers.” She knew they were already being grown at this stage, or very near it. Regardless, the Separatists were already building a droid army that would have to be met one way or the other. They had years to act, and yet it still didn’t feel remotely like enough time.

“If we can’t tell anyone directly about Palpatine, we can work to get the Jedi pointed in the right direction. I can quarantine his access to power more directly, although I worry that will tip our hand early if I’m not extraordinarily cautious about it.” She had a deep worry that Palpatine might also be in the middle of this strange loop of time repeating itself, but that wasn’t something she could deal with right this moment, not if it was just a worry.

Palpatine was cunning. Luckily, so was she.

“I have absolute faith in you, Padmé,” Obi-Wan said with warm eyes. “We know what is to come, and that alone gives us an advantage we’ve lacked in all these others cycles.” His eyes spoke to the horrors they had both witnessed during their lives. But hope was almost a drug, and they both were giddy on it.

“There are certain things that I will put in place during the years we will be separated. For the first, I -- I am not the one who should train Anakin, not by myself anyway.” Padmé looked shocked, but Obi-Wan continued. “I have never felt called to the Darkness, not in the same manner that Anakin has been, at any rate. But there are those who have, those who would understand and have never been in a position to aid him. They will be this time, I swear it. And --- as for your marriage --- “

Padmé outright flinched at the word, because to say she had complicated emotions on the matter was a gross understatement. She loved Anakin, but he was also at the moment a child and he would later become so unbalanced as to ultimately kill her. Padmé didn’t know her own heart well enough to assume what would happen or what she would want later. Right now, she could only try to figure out what had to go differently this time.

Even if there was a part of her that still truly and deeply loved him, even now after everything.

Obi-Wan shook his head. “I’m not trying to make this more painful, Padmé. But I can promise that I will do nothing to affect that, should it come to pass again. It’s not my place. I can see now that certain things about the Code might have resulted in the utter failure of it in the end.” Padmé put aside her personal discomfort to put a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, understanding how brutal it was to watch your entire way of life torn asunder. The Jedi and the Senate had fallen as one, leaving behind wreckage with a monster at the helm. It was little wonder that they both still grieved as they did.

But the ship was exiting hyperspace, and they were out of time. The Jedi Knight (not yet a Master, not yet a General, his padawan braid hanging over one shoulder like a mockery of everything he truly was) squeezed her arm once and then disappeared to the cockpit while Padmé breathed in, breathed out, and prepared to face a Sith lord.

\---

If seeing Anakin had been difficult, standing before Sheev Palpatine with a placid, innocent expression was the greatest test of Padmé’s diplomacy in any of her lifetimes. He made the usual show of sorrow at the state of Naboo, her own safety, every other false and hollow protest that he was working in the interests of them all.

Had his eyes always seemed so hollow, so cruel? She tried to not panic, but they seemed so calculating. She forced herself to breathe, to remember that no, he’d always unsettled her but she’d convinced herself that it was unfair of her to doubt his intentions. Padmé had always thought that Palpatine was an opportunist at worst, focused on his own power rather than the needs of the people. She simply had misjudged how true that was.

So Padmé stood with her own gentle, childlike expression, her mind clear because she knew the risks of slipping this early. It felt like a game of dejarik, but the stakes were galactic. When she had first walked this road, she could only react. Now, there were two players in the frey.

She smiled at his protestations, greeted Valorum with her normal diplomatic polish as the Jedi left for their own meetings. Padmé knew that her own meeting would require her entire focus, and she knew she could count on Obi-Wan to make certain that Anakin was met with less antagonism.

Shmi would remain part of her household, and gratefully not part of this meeting. Padmé knew keeping Anakin’s mother out of Palpatine’s sight as much as possible would be wise.  
Sitting in the Senator’s office, Padmé listened to the firm protestations against continuing to support Valorum, how allowing Federation control may be wise, how a stronger Chancellor would suit the situation far better. She didn’t allow herself to marvel at the subtlety of Palpatine’s machinations. Putting the conflict in terms of safety and strength rather than moves towards fascism was the best gambit he had, since the violence had already begun and it was difficult to argue for ideology while people died.

Still, she had strength forged in fire by this point. The fire that Palpatine had started. Padmé would not yield.

The next day, Queen Amidala stood before the Senate and remained braced for Lott Dod’s objection. The next change was just as critical as the first, but she was ready.

“I object! There is no proof of any attack against the Naboo system! We recommend...”

“With all due respect to the honorable delegate from the Trade Federation,” Padmé said in a voice that carried far more weight than it had before, silencing the scattered mutterings throughout the echoing chamber, “We bring substantial proof in the form of Jedi testimony and holorecordings of my own escape from the blockade.”

Master Qui-Gon stepped to her side (at the urging of Obi-Wan, of course), standing in silence as the holorecordings of the Trade Federation ships attacking the Naboo freighters filled the space around the Senators and the mutterings became cries of objection to the unprovoked attack.

Next to her, she could have sworn that Senator Palpatine deflated. There would be no vote this day of No Confidence against the Supreme Chancellor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm blown away by how positive a reaction this fic is getting! Thank you all so much for your kind words and encouragement! Thankfully just one more chapter or so and then we're out of Episode I territory. :D


	4. Inevitable

Padme was trying very hard to not panic about the fact she may have started the war early.

The Trade Federation withdrew from the proceedings, loudly and with violent diatribes, but without the support they had previously enjoyed from the more neutral sectors. She was certain that those who would later join the Separatists were furious, yet unwilling to act without the correct pieces in play. They’d bought time, if nothing else. Palpatine jumped immediately into the role of the wronged party, apparently seeing in Padme’s impassioned plea for justice a possibility for a feint, and latched on with both hands to applaud her brave speech and demand the Trade Federation stop the blockade at once. There was no further call for a No Confidence vote.

It served her purposes well enough. For now.

The Federation would not give up the blockade without a fight, however, and Padme fully intended to give it to them. There was no escaping the Battle of Naboo, it seemed. She stood on the landing pad with her small band, the Jedi stalwart as they flanked her Captain. She wasn’t surprised to see Anakin there, yet he was already in the garb of a youngling, smiling widely at Master Windu’s side. He didn’t look as overwhelmed as he had on Naboo after their victory in her previous cycles. He looked thrilled, eager. So happy.

Obi-Wan’s voice came from one side, soft but pleased.

“Qui-Gon and Windu will both be training him, although his only true fear is for those still in slavery on Tatooine. It’s less sharp.” Less useful to those who would turn that fear into a weapon, Padme understands. “Master Windu will see to the parts of Anakin’s soul that I’ve never understood. I will help how I must if later things ---” He trailed off. They both knew what was likely to happen regardless of anything they tried to prevent. Obi-Wan shook his head, still looking forward. “At any rate, we will not leave Anakin to the shadows this time. If nothing else, that may be a certainty.”

It was hope. It was a change, sorely needed. Padme nodded, grateful if struggling to articulate it for fear that it would evaporate like the morning dew if she dared to give it voice. 

The light in Anakin’s eyes would be enough to get her through the rest.

\---

Master Qui-Gon died bravely, but that did little to soothe the ache in her heart. It didn’t matter that Obi-Wan had sworn that he’d tried to avert it, and Padme wouldn’t make his grief more bitter by implying otherwise. Still, as she stood that night by the burning pyre, watching the Jedi upon the other side of the flames, there was a sense of regret that went bone deep and as heavy on her shoulders as the galaxy itself. Naboo was safe, for now. The Galaxy was on the brink of war, but Palpatine was not positioned as securely as he had been last time.

Had it been enough? 

Anakin asked to see her before the Jedi left Naboo, and for a craven moment Padme had almost denied it. Her emotions were still in utter chaos and she wasn’t certain that she could keep it together in front of the new padawan. He was so proud as he entered the chamber, beaming at Padme directly. “Y’know, I kind of thought it was always you pretending to be someone else. I could always tell, I just didn’t get it until we were in the swamp.”

She had to keep from laughing, even as she stepped off the throne, her ceremonial dress and makeup feeling extraordinarily excessive in this particular interview. Anakin was already swaggering as he would years later, striding into her Coruscant apartments so cocky and sure of himself. Not for the first time, Padme realized that it was very likely that he would not fall in love with her in this cycle, not if he was more comfortable in his path as a Jedi, and she bit down inside of her lip to distract herself from that emotional ache.

Her needs couldn’t be placed above that of the galaxy. If Anakin remained safe, secure in the Light, she could want nothing more than that.

“I should have known better than to think that I would fool a Jedi, Ani.” Her tone was teasing, but gentle all the same. “But the deception is sometimes necessary when we’re traveling. It’s not a safe galaxy out there, I’m afraid.” And then Anakin looked at her with a seriousness that a nine year old simply shouldn’t be forced to wear, and her heart ached.

She turned her head to look over at Shmi, standing in new robes and holding her arms out for her son to run into. It might be the last time that they met for some time, but knowing that Shmi was safe here in her household on Naboo was at least was something she could take some measure of joy in. If she never saw Anakin Skywalker again but he and his mother were kept safe from Palpatine’s machinations, it would all be worth it. A fierce strike of protective love almost brought her to her knees, but Padme could stand against it. She had to. 

She already knew too well that the galaxy couldn’t be saved by that love alone.

\---

The years moved far less quickly than she would like, even with the already remarkable changes that two small differences had wrought. Palpatine tried twice more to force a vote of No Confidence in Chancellor Valorum, but Padme threw considerable effort behind keeping him shored up. Palpatine then shocked the galaxy by resigning, in part because criticism of him was mounting after his latest attempt at what many viewed as a bald grab at personal power.

Padme was elected to replace him as the Senator of Naboo while Bail Antilles became Supreme Chancellor when Valorum’s second term ended, and Palpatine faded into the shadows, claiming retirement suited him well enough. 

If anything, that only made Padme view him as far more dangerous. 

Occasionally he would visit her offices on Coruscant, offering the most friendly of advice and hinting that he would do anything to aid her and their beloved Naboo, and once or twice she allowed him to work on some minor thing so that he didn’t suspect that she suspected him. It was exhausting, this double game but she was grateful that she’d learned to keep her thoughts contained ages ago, or at least in another lifetime. Palpatine seemed to find her frustratingly naive, and yet still no more of a threat than he had before which meant she could expect that assassination attempt any day.

Utterly exhausting.

The Trade Federation had not backed down, and many systems had begun their declarations of separation from the Republic just as before. The slow march to war seemed unabated which simply meant that Palpatine had another actor within the Senate. Or several, most likely. Mas Amedda still held a great deal of power alone, but there were countless others that could be swayed with the promise of something more as well. Padme could only wait and be cautious, aware that at least with Palpatine rarely on Coruscant that his influence over Anakin was minimal at this point. It was something to hold to.

Obi-Wan was able to visit Naboo, just once and alone. Padme walked with him to the lakeside terrace that she and Anakin had married on, and she pretended to not feel a sense of bitter grief at the entire farce. She had allowed herself the flirtation with Clovis, if only because it was a nightmare to go through puberty yet again and he had been a pleasant distraction.

But he hadn’t been Anakin, either.

So she stood with the new Jedi Master, noting that he’d cut his hair shorter far earlier this time and restraining a bit of a smile. It did suit him better. “Master Kenobi, it has been some time.” Obi-Wan grinned a little sheepishly.

“I was fortunate enough to be called to the Outer Rim for another reason that ultimately proved to be a short visit. I thought it best to confer before --” He trailed off, unwilling to bring up what had brought them together in previous cycles. The attack. The death of Cordé. The beginning of the war in earnest. Padme nodded, trying to keep her smile.

“You thought right. Am I right in thinking that the new Supreme Chancellor does not hound Anakin’s steps as the previous one did?” Even here, where she was certain they were safe from prying ears she followed her habit of speaking in halves. Luckily, Master Kenobi did not seem to take offense. Perhaps he no longer thought of her as strictly a politician, or at the least he internalized it better.

“You are exactly correct. And Anakin... it is fascinating. He is the same and yet he is so different,” Obi-Wan said with such marked pride that it made Padme smile in earnest. “He can still be terribly reckless, but it is with excitement rather than frustration now. We have been --- quite busy on Tatooine, actually. The Jedi Order allowed some of his training to be utilized in dismantling the slave trade. The Hutts have prices on our heads, naturally, but Anakin wears it as an utmost signal of honor. He still struggles with control and patience, but I am convinced that he always will. But the darkness does not lure him as it did before.” Before, when Obi-Wan closed his eyes to the temptations. Before, when they both knew the anger that boiled under the surface, stoked by Palpatine and everything that life had done to him.

This new Anakin was a cipher to Padme. She wanted to meet him and at the same time was somehow terrified by the prospect. In spite of everything that had happened, everything that may still happen, Padme loved Anakin fiercely. It was one thing to believe she could nobly sacrifice that love to the greater good, and she would if she had to, but at no point did she have to enjoy it. If she met Anakin again and he looked at her with nothing but polite detachment, she would find a way to let it go. Somehow.

But that was borrowing trouble from the future, most likely, and they had enough issues already. “And what of the Jedi Order itself? The gossip makes it sound as if there is some sort of terrible upheaval, but that is more or less standard press.” She turned to look at Obi-Wan, hoping he understood how badly she wished to change the subject. Thankfully, he understood.

“The Code has not been relaxed, as so many are claiming. As ever, we are mostly discussing changes, interpretations, but those interpretations are taking on a different -- flavor, we could say.” Obi-Wan looked positively impish, which pulled Padme from her black thoughts once again. “There is a great deal of historical precedent that points to our interpretation of the Code leading to a great deal of inertia, which of course makes us far from effective. I have gently nudged the right people in the right direction to force this conversation. It’s already resulted in the Jedi taking a more active role, particularly in looking for the Sith Lord actor in the mix.”

For a split second, Padme could see every one of his accumulated years in his eyes, and Padme wondered if Obi-Wan could see hers as well. They were both actors now, the drama of their lives taking on an extra layer of complication in a galaxy already about to go up in flames. She reached out to press a comforting squeeze to his arm before pulling away, standing up to her full height, shoulders set in that manner that practically screamed Senator.

“You have done well, Master Kenobi. I dare to say that we are as prepared as we can be.”

It made Obi-Wan smile, which had been her goal, the weight of the galaxy moving off his shoulders for just a moment as he nodded. “To the next chapter, Senator.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! Phew, the Phantom Menace stuff is done now, and hopefully it's less explain-y and more action-y from this point onward! Thanks for bearing with it!
> 
> I've begun working on a related Obi-Wan fic from his point of view, since so many of the events of the movies and Clone Wars aren't things that Padme can witness directly and I worry this is too much exposition as it is. I'll try to get it up soon, but don't worry! This one will likely get done first since I have a far clearer picture of its structure. Hope you enjoy!


	5. Onward Towards the Dawn

The years drag on for so long, and then suddenly it’s as if time had spend up and ten years had been but ten minutes. Senator Amidala had been called to vote in the Galactic Senate to create an army in defense against Count Dooku and the Separatists. 

She’d been preparing for years, and suddenly it didn’t feel like remotely enough time.

The threats against her life had been made for years, each one like sandpaper against her skin. This wasn’t like before where she considered it part of her position, something to be endured rather than rejected. She had been so naive, convinced that a politician should rise above the fray of violence, at least at this stage. Padmé knew better now, and each possible death weighed so heavily upon her shoulders. Qui-Gon had been the first. He would likely not be the last.

Cordé had always worn a protective vest, but it wasn’t enough to sustain an explosion. Padmé had spent a full year quietly exploring options for both her and when Captain Typho came to her with his concerns about her safety, she suggested that her security detail and decoy wear a prototype armor underneath their clothing. It might not be enough, but testing had been promising, and while she was terrified of changing too much, she couldn’t just let Cordé die. Padmé couldn’t bear it.

In truth, she hyper-focused on protecting her attention upon protecting her bodyguards because so much still felt terribly out of control. Padmé had been living in her own head increasingly, unable to confide in anyone save Obi-Wan about this strange fate she had been handed. Trust was in short supply, as her exposure to the nature of Palpatine’s plot had been far too narrow to be certain who was possibly a part of it. Trying to not let on anything when she barely felt safe in her own mind most days was a nightmare.

How long could she honestly keep this a secret from a Sith Lord, especially when she knew there were several actively doing everything they could to undermine her efforts without the understanding that she was doing the same to them?

Then there was Anakin.

No matter how desperately she tried to pretend to noble sacrifice and resignation, she burned for him. Padmé had spent nights remembering their stolen moments together, a love that had grown softly in spite of the fury around them until it consumed them both. In spite of everything that had come to pass, Padmé couldn’t just turn off her love for Anakin Skywalker. It would have been so much easier if she could. The memories of Mustafar were too raw, even a decade later, not to mention the parts of their relationship that had been difficult before that. Attraction and adoration were easy, but trust and support often were not, especially with the sperations they had been forced to endure. The jealousy with Clovis, his episodes of rage and distrust were as vivid as the gentle moments where he looked at her as if she had personally set the starts in the skies.

Padmé didn’t feel just one thing, she felt them all. She wanted to rail against him. To scream at him for his transgressions, to hate him. She also wanted to kiss him, make love to him, to feel his hands brand her skin once more. To be held as dawn broke into their bedroom on Naboo, the sunlight gentle as his touch.

She wanted all of these things, and none were possible. Not yet. Possibly not ever.

So to finally be on the brink of seeing him again, Anakin as she truly knew him rather than the child that destiny thrust far too much upon at once, Padmé finds herself panicking outright and she isn’t particularly proud of it. It’s not something she can be direct about, so she instead threw herself into visible planning for the vote, even if she knows it’s a lost cause. The Clones are all but ready now, and the Separatists would attack any day. Even without Palpatine in direct power she was certain he’d managed it anyway. Regardless, they left in the morning for Coruscant.

Tomorrow, everything would begin.

\---

Her hands shook as she stood in her apartment, staring out at the endlessly moving stream of vehicles out the window, trying to breathe, trying to just breathe. Cordé was safe, but she was in the medical bay for the time being. It had been close, but they assured her that both Cordé and her bodyguards would make full recoveries. Masters Yoda and Windu did not dispute her fear that it was Count Dooku who had attacked her, even if Mundi still considered it unlikely. It was a beginning. A change.

Every time something changed like this it almost overwhelmed her. It felt like every nerve in her body was firing, her body on fire and she sometimes wondered if this hyper-awareness was what it felt like to feel the Force. It didn’t really matter, but she was curious all the same. It felt exhilarating and terrifying all at the same time.

She’d left Jar Jar behind, intentionally. Well meaning as the Gungan was, that didn’t change the fact that he was a risk they could ill afford at this juncture. She was certain there was still an agent of the Sith in the Senate, if not several. He was too well meaning and easily misled to bring as a representative to the talks, although he still helped to keep the peace with the Gungan people themselves. Padmé had done all she could to keep Naboo stable and her own position secure, but now the true tests would begin. War was coming.

The elevator opened behind her, and it felt as if time stood still. Maybe it did.

As Padmé turned to look, it became apparent at once what Obi-Wan had meant some time ago, when he had said that Anakin was entirely different and somehow the same. He carried himself with a gravity that was far more familiar to a Jedi than his previous, nervous energy, but his eyes had that light of excitement all the same. He was changed, yet every bit Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Padawan who looked at her with that eager adoration that he always had in this moment.

It took everything in her to just remember to breathe.

“It’s been far too long, Master Kenobi,” she finally managed, her smile so much softer than it might have been previously, her head turning to Anakin. There was no point in the usual denial about their presences being unneeded, as she was barely holding it together as it was.

“Anakin? My goodness, it is good to see you.” What is it she always said? It was almost hard to remember. “You’ve grown taller.” That wasn’t it, but it was close enough. He looked flustered, and Padmé was certain she looked the same. But he was still Anakin, her Anakin, and he practically fell over himself to step forward towards her.

“So have you... grown more, I mean. More beautiful! But shorter.”

Obi-Wan audibly groaned, stepping forward to divert the moment. Padmé didn’t laugh this time or bring up that little boy on Tatooine again. Instead, she just smiled at Anakin as the moment seemed to settle around them both.

Another change. Another step.

She motioned for the two Jedi to follow her towards her office, forcing herself to breathe. “I recognize that you’ve been assigned to be my security detail, but I also hope that we may be able to investigate the threat as well?” She met Obi-Wan’s eyes seriously, less confrontational than she had been in the past but they both knew what would happen later that night and it seemed foolish to pretend that it wouldn’t. Neither had done anything to stem the tide of assassination attempts, after all. Padmé sat at her desk, looking at the Jedi seriously.

“I do not intend to do anything reckless, but neither will I sit by and continue to risk the lives of my staff and friends while I remain a target. Please, help me in this matter.”

She had been prepared for Obi-Wan to demur, at least vocally but then Anakin charged forward as he always did. “We will find who is trying to kill you, Padmé. I promise you.”

Padmé would swear that saw Obi-Wan’s lips twitch underneath his beard.

“We will not allow the Senator to be harmed, nor her people, Anakin. But I will remind you that our mandate is limited.” She noted how different Obi-Wan’s tone was, and how Anakin answered with a quiet nod rather than petulant silence. The dynamic had shifted, but she wasn’t sure of what the particulars were for the change. It honestly made Padmé feel a flood of relief, her shoulders sagging just slightly before she stood again to leave. The sun was already setting.

“I thank you both for your dedication. Perhaps merely with your presence, the mysteries will be revealed. If you will excuse me, I will retire.” The words came by rote now, as so many of them did, but her eyes caught Anakin’s with a flash of desire that she almost hated herself for the moment she allowed it. It wasn’t fair. Not to him, not for either of them. She looked away again.

With Dormé by her side, she left the Jedi behind to make their plans. She hadn’t been prepared to see him again, not truly, and she had over ten years to try to be.

Sleep would elude her, and not just because of the bounty hunter threat.

\---

Padmé had no qualms about using herself as bait, once more. It had little to do with her foreknowledge and more to do with her almost reckless disregard for her own safety. Alone in her room, save for R2, no one else could likely get hurt.

Besides, it was extremely effective.

“Senator, I really don’t think this --” Anakin began before Padmé held up a particularly imperious hand, glaring at him lightly over the head of the droid.

“First of all, unless you want me to start calling you Padawan, please stop using my title. It’s bizarre.” It wasn’t, not usually, but every time he called her Senator, Padmé felt like her skin was being lightly scourged. He was Anakin, and she was Padmé. These little differences mattered to her, probably far too much and at least in this particular moment she could rage against it. “And second, it will be fine. You know as well as I do that they’ll try again, but with two Jedi protecting me I don’t have much to be afraid of, do I?”

Anakin was torn between insisting that it was a foolish plan and his own burnished ego at her compliment, as she knew that he would be. It was that gentle teasing they’d always managed in their stolen moments during the Clone Wars, the shared dinners on her terrace where they both admonished the other one to be careful even though they were fully aware that neither would do anything of the sort. Padmé’s heart was both full and broken at the same time, the future mired in uncertainty that she had intentionally made and yet could hardly help but be afraid of all the same.

She had once told Anakin that he was breaking her heart, and then again and again and again. Strange how this time the context was entirely different.

“... you look like you did the first time we met,” Anakin said softly, almost like he was afraid to intrude on her brooding, which made her feel slightly guilty and slightly amused at the same time. “I mean, on Tatooine. You look like something is just--- nevermind.”

Padmé swallowed back her own worries, turning to focus on Anakin a little more fully. She felt almost guilty being lost in thought and grief about a past a dozen times buried now, and realized she had to stop giving in to it. “No, it’s alright. What do I look like?”

Anakin ducked his head, his ears a little red. It was wonderfully endearing. It always was.

“You look like someone’s died, or disappointed you horribly. And I don’t mean to pry, Sen-- Padmé. I just, I wish that I could help. But that kind of sadness, I know that sometimes no one can. Either way, I just want you to know that you have a friend. In me. I promise.”

She couldn’t help the tears this time, especially when he ever so awkwardly asked permission to hug her in an attempt to comfort her. Padmé cried, and Anakin held her, and the Coruscant night fell heavily on the skyline.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From here on out, things slow waaaaaaaaaay down narrative wise. Hope you enjoy!


	6. In Silence

Padme didn’t want to go home.

She never did, but somehow the inevitability of the return to Naboo made her hair stand on end, a sort of gentle terror that was with her from the moment the bounty hunter was captured. It should have been the other way around; Obi-Wan was able to take her alive and it was only a matter of time until she told them everything, but Padme still couldn’t shake the feeling that everything was out of her control. Had they changed enough?

Had they changed too much?

Anakin seemed to realize she was afraid, or at the very least concerned, but of course he misread it entirely. He was doing everything he could to be considerate, more so than he had in the past. He saw to all the planning for their departure from Coruscant, which left Padme to her own thoughts far too much. She wanted to scream, which wasn’t like her in the slightest; she wanted to cry, which was somehow more frustrating. She’d already let it go far too far by crying on his shoulder that night that they’d apprehended Zam Wesell. She had to keep it together.

Even if it was destroying her.

On the afternoon they were set to leave, Padme was staring out of the apartment window again, which was rapidly becoming her most common past time. She stood, silent, wondering at the trillions of lives that were on the line, wondering how many would still be lost if she did the wrong thing, misstepped when it really counted. Dooku was growing bold, just as he always did, and it was clear there was no avoiding the Clone Wars. There would be millions of deaths that she could not avoid, maybe billions and the frustration was like a constant, low-grade headache that she couldn’t escape.

“You look troubled, my dear.”

The voice is like thousands of needles over her skin, cold and painful, and it’s only by lifetimes of practice that Padme doesn’t flinch with undue surprise or alarm. Sheev Palpatine would latch onto any weakness, and as unexpected as his visit might be now, she was long past finding his machinations surprising in the least. So she turned, expression every inch one of pleasant surprise, shoulders set squarely.

He expected her to be determined, idealistic, naive. Padme would make certain that was absolutely how he found her.

“Ambassador Palpatine! What a pleasant surprise!” Queen Jamillia had given him a token title, allowing him to represent Naboo in an honorary sort of manner, but even the more junior senators tended to giggle a bit about how little it meant.

Padme never joined in. She knew better than to underestimate this man.  
His smile is kindly, but his eyes so very sharp. Even in previous meetings, before she remembered everything else, Padme had known him to be a shrewd politician and not entirely trustworthy. But her wildest surmise had never included the title of Sith Lord amongst his others. Realizing how long he had laid his plans, how carefully he had crafted his imperial ambitions made her skin crawl, but she would never allow him to see it. The Jedi often surmised that they felt as if the Dark Side was hiding something from them, their view of the future obscured. It was daunting, staring the reason in the face.

So she smiled, a fluttered hand to her chest, mind perfectly still because it had to be.

“I heard that you are to return to Naboo, my dear. The attack upon your life must have truly shaken you to leave, so close to the vote.” His smile was kindly, tone measured, but his words were meant to provoke, and she couldn’t afford to not rise to it, to possibly court further suspicion. So she bristled, visibly, her chin raising stubbornly.

At least that part was easy enough to portray effectively.

Palpatine gave her an indulgent look, as if he was a fond uncle who knew better than to argue with a wayward child, and Padme allowed her very real irritation sell the moment. He’d always treated her with this kind of false deference, right up to the point where she would grow visibly irritated, and then praise her acumin to calm her back down. It was a pattern she noticed now, and if anything it only infuriated her more. He had played her masterfully, time and time again. But she was not the naive, hopeful girl she had been in their past dealings. Sheev Palpatine was a Sith Lord, but she had also been forged by fire this time around.

“With all respect, Ambassador, the vote is precisely why I return to the Outer Rim. I will not allow my safety to become a distraction from the proceedings, nor the debate. I have spoken my case before the Senate, and will return in time for the vote. I will not allow my presence to bring misfortune to those dearest to me.” Her words rang every bit as self-righteous as she intended them to, and she saw the amusement flare in Palpatine’s eyes before he tempered it with that well-intended nod and almost bashful apology.

Liar.

“My dear Padme, you know that your safety is my utmost concern. I meant no offense, I assure you.” He was looking at her with that kindly regret, that worldly statesman look of his that conveyed so much compassion and understanding.

How she hated herself for wanting to believe it, even now.

“Of course, Ambassador. Please forgive my rudeness, I am --- admittedly overwhelmed.” At least that much could be said honestly. “I mean no disrespect for your council. It is admittedly the lesser of two evils to agree to the Jedi’s plans for my safety.” It was her turn to lie, and at least she could do so very well by now. Obi-Wan had been right about one thing, time and time again. She was a politician, and she knew how to prevaricate.

Palpatine placed a fatherly hand on her shoulder, and it took every ounce of self control within her to remain calm, to not flinch. He was by no means an overly physical man, but she knew there were risks with contact. She was lucky that he only saw her as a means to control Anakin and the Senate, not as a worthy actor on this stage.

It was the best card she had, and she would play it as well as she was able, giving him that same sheepish, vapid smile.

“My dear, should anything happen to you, I do not know what I would do. I have watched you become such an able young woman that I couldn’t bear to see you hurt. Take care, won’t you?”

It was so convincing, his performance. It was perfect. And Padme knew that her own would have to always match. She smiled and nodded, holding his eyes before he turned, seemingly pleased with the interview and departed.

She knew better than to take any kind of solace in that. Sheev Palpatine was far too good at this game to give any indication that something was amiss until it was far too late.

+++

Anakin is courteous, but troubled. Not in the way that he had been previously, but this was guilt, and Padme knew it well enough to identify with some ease. She could guess why; he was a better Jedi this time, and their attraction was still there.

It gave her some guilt of her own.

“It seems like just yesterday in so many ways, when we were last on Naboo.” She can’t stand the silence, and she knows Anakin well enough to know that he cannot either. He’s sitting beside her on the transport, his fingers twitching on the chair arm between them, and there’s that traitorous fondness swelling behind her ribs, her eyes soft as she watched him.

It shouldn’t be this easy to fall in love with him again, knowing everything that she knows. But that fiercely loyal, fiery and passionate man she had loved over so many lifetimes was still there, and her soul called to him even knowing the cost. She had spent years now wondering if perhaps this time the way to avoid the chaos would be to not allow herself to love him.

It had only taken a few days to realize that wasn’t an option at all.

Anakin looked up, almost sheepish, that smile reaching his eyes as he stilled his hand. “I suppose this time we can consider ourselves lucky that there’s probably no need to run a blockade. But it bothers me a lot that we can’t rule it out, Senat- er, Padme.”

She laughed softly, shaking her head. “Ani, I’m never going to be so afraid of my own shadow that a trip home becomes something approached with trepidation or terror.” Her shoulders straightened, almost defensively. Even if she knew what was coming, in theory, she refused to cower before it. 

When she looked forward, Padme missed entirely the way that Anakin looked at her. The soft way his eyes fell on her, a mixture of reverence but also respect. Not the pedestal he’d had placed her on before, but more aware of her power rather than just her beauty. Maybe she was no longer his angel, but that was probably for the best.

When she looked back, he’d turned his head, padawan braid catching on the edge of his robes, and it was her turn for soft eyes and quiet hope. But he was still smiling, just a touch.

“I know better than to argue with you already.”

It struck her, like a blow to her chest, but he wasn’t smiling at her in any knowing way. Padme had to collect herself, to swallow back admissions she could not dare make, not to him. Not yet. 

The rest of the trip is made in silence, the stars screaming by them in fiery trails of light.

+++

The visit to the Queen is uneventful, the visit home to visit her family the same. Very little differs, but Padme is unsurprised to find that there’s an easier time in their moments alone than before, if only because she’s not fighting the attraction this time. There is no internal conflict, no struggle to pretend as if she doesn’t feel the same pull he hides so poorly (and he still hides it so poorly). If anything, she has a harder time not acting on it, finding herself reaching for his hand unconsciously and stalling at the last second.

He was struggling with his emotions, holding them at bay, while she yearned. The irony was not lost on Padme, even as they prepared for another day of idle waiting, today with the picnic on the grasslands. She knew better than to rush to Geonosis, especially since Shmi was perfectly safe with them on Naboo, working in the palace and often sharing lunch with them. Anakin had been sleeping peacefully, the only disquiet he seemed to have was around Padme herself, and she could do little on that score.

So another day, another bit of biding their time until the likely communication from Obi-Wan came and the Clone Wars would begin in earnest. Padme had wondered sometimes if there were fixed points that wouldn’t change no matter what, as they hadn’t been able to avoid Qui-Gon’s death or the attack on her life on Coruscant. It all seemed so fantastically unreal, even now, to find that her life was trapped in a loop and only this time she was free to change it. If she was a less practically minded woman, she would marvel at the mystery of the Force.

As it was, she was just worried.

Anakin could clearly tell, sitting on the blanket amongst the wildflowers with her, looking at her downcast expression with something near worry himself. “You look troubled, Padme.” He was clearly trying to not be forward, but he was every bit as clumsy with his words as ever. “I mean, I’m not trying to pry. And I certainly understand why you might be troubled, but you’re safe here. I promise that.”

He looked at her so earnestly that she almost wept, but Padme was getting good at holding in her tears.

“I know that, Ani.” She knew if nothing else, this Anakin was not filled with fear. Fear of loss, of not being powerful enough. That didn’t mean he wasn’t afraid of some things, but it was almost as plain as anything that the screws Palpatine had put him to were absent, or at least less intense. Padme wondered if he had another target in mind, or was just biding his time. It didn’t matter. She would keep Anakin safe, this time. “And please don’t take my worry as a criticism of your protective abilities.” It was almost teasing, and she looked back over the plains. “It’s the weight of the galaxy in general, and some days it’s better than others. I worry about the vote. I worry about the impending conflict that I just don’t see us able to avoid.”

Anakin looked at her, his eyes soft again in a quiet way that spoke so loudly to her soul she wondered if he could hear it somehow. To be fair, she really didn’t know how the Force worked; maybe he could. “I know that your burden is great, Padme. But I also know you have faith in the Republic.” He hesitated, then continued. “Some days, I admit that I wonder if it’s working. If the system can support so many views in conflict. They talk in the Senate about democracy and giving a voice to every system, but turn their backs on the problems of slavers and cartels and everything else. I know that it needs changes, it needs to adapt. But I also know that with people like you, it will.”

He almost looked embarrassed by saying all that so quickly, and Padme smiled a little in spite of herself. Things had clearly changed already.

“Your belief in me is appreciated, Ani. But you’re right. The Republic can’t keep ignoring or even worse, enabling these problems. There are so many things that slip through the cracks because we focus on the wrong things.” She’d done some work to try and break the slaver networks in the Outer Rim, at least to put pressure on the Core Worlds to stop enabling it, but it was difficult to get traction when so many fortunes relied upon it. But she was trying. 

Anakin handed her one of the sweet rolls, sitting back on his hands, leaning so he could look up at the sky. “You didn’t leave my mother on Tatooine, Padme. And I know you got all of the rest of Watto’s ring broken up last year.” His tone was quiet, reverental almost. It made her shake her head.

“And there are hundreds of thousands more, Ani. I’m doing what I can, as quickly as I can.” But it’s not enough. It’s not nearly enough. “Don’t look at me like some kind of saint, I beg you. I’ll let you down every time.” She’d meant it as a joke, but something in Anakin’s face twisted into something pained, almost heart-rending. For the life of her, she couldn’t reconcile that reaction with what she’d just said.

His face was twisted with grief, and something about it was chilling. “Ani, what’s wrong?” 

He shook his head, trying to clear the shadow that had fallen so quickly over his features. Anakin Skywalker wasn’t particularly good at hiding his emotions on any given day, but it was so evident that whatever he was feeling or remembering was something serious, something eating at his core. When he finally found the words, he wasn’t looking at her.

“It’s just --- you say that. You say that somehow you’ll let me down but, I keep dreaming.” He swallowed, turning back to look at her with that same intense worry. “ --- I keep dreaming that you’re dying. That you’re dying, and I’m the one who killed you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know. It's been ages.
> 
> I won't go into details, but I was a little down on my writing for quite some time. And by a little, I mean a lot. It's been hard, coming back to something I was really excited about but felt was fundamentally flawed like this. I have a habit of being very hard on my writing, and unfortunately I'm also a terrible marshmallow who internalizes things far beyond what she should. In short, I thought that my writing sucked. Hard.
> 
> So for awhile, I gave up.
> 
> I've worked through that though, mostly. I'm feeling better on the whole about my writing and my ideas, and I hope that this is something you can enjoy. I still plan to try and write an Obi-Wan companion piece, and I have some Old Republic stuff brewing too, along with some MCU and NMCU fics that I'm working on. In short, I'm back. I can't promise speed or anything, but thank you for your patience.
> 
> I hope you enjoy.

**Author's Note:**

> I am sure there are fix-its of this nature, and I'm also sure that this one won't be anything too exciting but I have needs dammit, and those needs are seeing Padmé save that idiot husband of hers from himself. Hope you enjoy!


End file.
